


THE DEMON OF SAN FRANCISCO

by AgnesClementine



Series: THE DEMON OF SAN FRANCISCO [1]
Category: Supernatural, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Case Fic, Chocolate, Eddie and Venom's relationship can be viewed however you'd like, Family, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I honestly don't know how violent this is but just to be safe, Venom does not like Dean, self-indulgent as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: "“Dean,” he states, although it sounds more like a question, then moves his eyes over Dean’s shoulder at the second figure in the hallway, “Sam.”And then, because Venom nicely points out it’s 4 in the fucking morning, he adds, “What the fuck.”"******************************************The one where Eddie is Sam and Dean's half-brother, Venom isn't exactly crazy about the Winchesters, and the hunt involves a certain people-eating creature.
Relationships: Eddie Brock & Venom Symbiote, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote
Series: THE DEMON OF SAN FRANCISCO [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583188
Comments: 44
Kudos: 620





	THE DEMON OF SAN FRANCISCO

**Author's Note:**

> This monstrosity has been sitting on my laptop since August. So, me finishing it is my Christmas present to myself lol XD
> 
> For Venom, it's set a bit after the movie, I guess, and for SPN it can be any of later seasons tbh, nothing is actually being referenced in the fic.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this and feel free to let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Also, happy holidays!! <3

Eddie doesn't speak much to his family. Or, okay, he doesn't speak to them at all. But it's not- there's no bad blood between them; in fact, they get on fantastically when they do meet up (once a year, if they manage).

At least when the visits are strictly family-related and not connected to their...line of work.

And yeah, he admits it wouldn’t be the first time they showed up unannounced- it’s actually a surprise when they do call ahead- but things have changed since the last time he saw his brothers and. Well.

He wakes up to Venom insisting someone’s at the door, tendrils of black slithering back underneath his skin, shimmering there expectantly. He looks around blearily, takes note of the covers kicked off to the floor (his body runs hotter now, which is both nice and infuriating at times), and realizes that yes, someone is trying to break into their apartment.

“Shit,” he mutters, scrambling out of the bed, careful not to trip up in the covers, “hold your horses, V, maybe it’s Mrs. Polski.”

Their new neighbor seems to be allergic to sleep and keeps asking them if they’ve seen her cat in the dead of the night. The cat that, as they’ve been informed during one of her more lucid moments, has died about a decade ago.

Though, Mrs. Polski can’t pick locks.

He creeps through the apartment, cold floorboards sending little thrills of ice up his bare feet. He’s not in any real danger, he knows. Venom truly does make sure he stays in tip-top condition, and that absolutely includes not getting killed by some half-assed burglars. Still, he’d prefer to keep property damage to the area around the door.

He turns the knob and swings the door open, getting ahead of the man squatting on his doorstep. And then has a panic attack (that passes before it even truly manifested, thanks to Venom tweaking around his head) because that man is his eldest brother.

“Dean,” he states, although it sounds more like a question, then moves his eyes over Dean’s shoulder at the second figure in the hallway, “Sam.”

And then, because Venom nicely points out _it’s 4 in the fucking morning_ , he adds, “What the fuck.”

Quickly rising to his feet, Dean clears his throat, “Sorry, we thought you were sleeping.”

Eddie steps aside to let them in, drags a hand over his face, “I was. And then _someone_ decided to _break into_ my apartment.”

Dean, the prick, shrugs, and Sam gives him an apologetic smile.

“Well, that never stopped you before,” Dean says, already kicking off his boots and stripping out of his jacket, “you usually sleep like the dead.”

Eddie hums; watching with fixated focus as he casually kicks his boots underneath the couch. He feels Venom’s irritation building like a knot between his shoulder blades. His body-mate is strangely peculiar when it comes to random things like this.

“Can you put your boots next to the door?” He asks, reaching over his shoulder to scratch at that itchy spot.

Dean, halfway bent to plop down on the couch, freezes to give him a bewildered look.

“Uh,” he starts, then throws a quick look at Sam on Eddie’s right. Sam makes an amused noise in response.

Eddie gives him an insistent look and points at the spot next to the door (although that’s actually more Venom than Eddie).

“Since when are you so uptight about the boots?” Dean grumbles but gets up to do as asked anyway.

Eddie rolls his eyes and _ugh_ , he’s wide awake now. With both his brothers here and Venom _really here_ , things are bound to get interesting. And Eddie’s brain will definitely spend the whole night- or what’s left of it- thinking about the ways in which it could get interesting. Overthinking has always been his thing, that’s why he’s a reporter.

A former reporter, that is. A journalist, now.

Sam is looking around his apartment and Eddie realizes another thing.

“Uh, the couch doesn’t pull out. You two can share ou-my bed.”

**Our bed? Eddie, no. Why?**

The old apartment, the one he shared with Anne, had a pull-out couch that Sam and Dean used on occasions when they came over directly from the road. But when Eddie fucked up and they split, he admits that thinking about where his brothers will sleep when and _if_ they come over was the last thing on his mind.

“What, unexpected guests’ treatment? Is that how it is now?”

“I can share with Sam and you can sleep on the couch, you know.”

Dean makes a comment about giving him his privacy and dashes away in the general direction of their bedroom.

Venom squirms unhappily, but Eddie knows it’s just a matter of time before he realizes it’s better to have them both sleep in their bed, than having to share with one of them.

Dean’s departure leaves him alone with Sam, who’s yet to get rid of a single layer of clothes. He’s definitely the one with more tact- and also painfully obvious when he’s trying to work up the nerve to say something.

“I’m sorry about you and Anne,” he says eventually.

Eddie doesn’t want to have this conversation, even though he had over nine months to get prepared for it. It’s right up there with the Talk his dad gave him when he was 16.

“Thanks. It’s, uh, fine.” And it’s not even a lie. Weirdly, Eddie thinks he and Anne are getting along better now than they did when they were together. They were happy, but Eddie is beyond happy with his situation right now, however strange, and Dan really is the right guy for her. What’s there to say except that everything- mostly- worked out.

Sam doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press him for more, and simply follows after Dean with a quiet, “Goodnight.”

Eddie looks after him for a moment, then sighs, goes to lock the door, and sinks into the couch.

  * ●●●●



Dean wakes up to Sam’s elbow jabbing him in the ribs and the sun seeping scarcely into the room through half-drawn curtains. He gets up with a groan, then stumbles into the bathroom to take care of his business.

There are two toothbrushes in a cup on the sink, and only one tube of toothpaste, he notes curiously. Dean doesn’t know what exactly went wrong with Anne but Eddie seems to be doing fine. The kid was always a shit liar, reporter/journalist/investigator persona be damned, so Dean knows he’s not pretending to be fine just for their sake.

Slightly more awake after a splash of cold water in his face, he continues his zombie walk to the kitchen, where he bangs around the cupboards stacked with a store-worthy variety of chocolate products until he finds coffee.

Eddie was still passed out on the couch when he came in (Dean only saw his feet hitched over one armrest, but his youngest brother could sleep right through a bomb going off since they first met him, so he was sure he’s still asleep). Except, when he turns on the coffee machine and spins on his heels to look around the apartment while he waits for it to brew, Eddie is peering at him from the couch like a fucking bat, head tipped over the armrest upside-down.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, jerking just a little bit, “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was,” Eddie responds, blinking. He sits up, stretches, and Dean narrows his eyes because alright, they haven’t seen each other for a long time, but he’s pretty sure Eddie lost a bit of weight. Although he doesn’t look any worse for wear.

He disappears into the bathroom, and in the meantime, Dean pours three cups of coffee. He shoves one in Sam’s hand when he finally crawls out of the bedroom.

“I heard you shout, what happened?” Sam asks him between the sips.

“Nothing,” Dean waves him off, _absolutely not_ because he’s embarrassed that he got scare-jumped by Eddie simply looking at him.

Sam gives him a funny look and just keeps on slurping at his coffee.

The apartment is a combination of worn furniture and new, IKEA cupboards. There are three potted plants on the windowsill; cactus and something leafy that Dean doesn’t know the name of. Stereo, weights, a desk that is a mess of papers and notebooks and sticky notes. It’s very ‘Eddie’, Dean decides, because that kid is not going to tell you anything from the first look.

“So, how’s it going with you two?”

Sam chokes, in the middle of a sip, as Eddie pads soundlessly back into the kitchen. He squeezes past Dean to grab a bottle of chocolate topping from one of the cupboards and then pours a generous amount in his coffee cup.

Dean watches, side-eyeing Sam, as he stirs the mixture and gulps down almost all of it in one swallow. This is new.

“Uh,” he starts, “what the fuck are you doing?”

Eddie freezes, even though his hand seems to have a mind of its own and is pouring more coffee in his cup.

“What?”

Dean looks pointedly at his hand, now squeezing more chocolate into the cup.

Eddie finally catches himself, and the tips of his ears turn pink as he sheepishly says, “I’m…trying a new thing?”

“That’s a weak lie, kid.”

“I’m barely six years younger than you-“

“Not the point.”

“That is, um, an interesting way to sweeten your coffee,” Sam says before they swerve off the track.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“Is it good?” Because now that Dean thinks about it, chocolate and coffee are both fucking divine; they can only get better together, right?

Eddie nods enthusiastically, eyes going wide as if he’s saying, “ _Dude, so good_.” And well.

Dean snatches the cup from his hand- Eddie reaches for it, but then draws it back and settles it awkwardly on the tabletop- and takes a swing.

And then gags because it’s _so not_ what he hoped it would be.

  * ●●●●



Venom lasts four days. Dean stomps into their apartment, boots caked with mud like they’re not in the middle of San Francisco and leaving wet footprints on his way to the fridge, and then marches back out with simple, “See you later,” and no explanation. Eddie feels tension is every muscle in his body, physically flinching when Venom screeches, **He keeps leaving a mess everywhere! I’m gonna eat his fucking head, Eddie!**

And well, Eddie quickly mops up the floor and gets out as well. He lets Venom go to town on two would-be murderers and buys him 20 dollars worth of white chocolate in exchange for a promise that he most definitely won’t eat Eddie’s brother.

It’s not that Eddie exactly expected Venom to like them immediately; the symbiote glimpsed into his memories enough times to get his own impression of his brothers, and most of the things he thinks about Dean are not flattering. It would all probably be easier if Eddie could just explain to them some of the house rules. But he’s never been much of a neat person, and he can’t explain the sudden change without bringing up Venom.

And, uh, that’s a can of worms that he’s not ready to share with his brothers yet.

So, instead of dealing with the problem directly, 3 am finds him knocking incessantly at Anne and Dan’s door. He’s got his mouth full, sweetness on his tongue, and despite being 100% human looking at the moment, it’s Venom at the wheel when Anne opens the door for them, bundled up in her pajamas.

He swallows, then strides inside and launches into his rant.

“How the hell did you manage to stand it?” Venom asks with Eddie’s voice.

Anne locks the door and frowns at him. “Manage to stand what?” She asks just as Dan shuffles in from behind the corner, yawning and blinking at them.

“Them. The brothers.”

“Eddie has brothers?” Dan asks. He, just as Anne, has quickly become well-tuned to control change of Eddie’s body. Eddie can’t tell what exactly changes that lets them know it’s Venom behind the wheel, so to speak, but they notice it just fine.

Venom turns to him, says, “Yes. And they are unbelievable. They touch and move everything, and they don’t stick to the rules. The heads belong to one corner, the bodies belong to the other corner, and boots belong next to the fucking door.” He’s moving their hands from one side to the other to emphasize his point.

Anne and Dan are looking at him a little stunned but Eddie is quiet, alright with being in the backseat for the moment. Venom needs to vent and it’s not quite as productive when he’s venting to someone he’s sharing headspace with, believe it or not. It just kind of…makes it build. Puts it in a loop where his feelings become Eddie’s feelings, and vice versa, until it all just magnifies.

His phone rings and Venom’s frustration when he sees the caller’s ID- Dean- rattles his spine. “Gah!” He growls, and Eddie takes control just for long enough to set the phone on the counter gingerly instead of hurling it at the wall or crushing it in his hand as Venom wants to. A lot of mobile devices have met their doom this way and, sure, Eddie’s doing more than fine with his job now, but he can’t keep wasting money on a new cellphone every few months.

“Hey, why don’t you guys sleepover, hm?” Anne, bless her, suggests. “Dan’s making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.”

Dan looks at her in surprise, asks, “I am?” and when she not so subtly pinches his forearm, says, “Oh. Oh, yeah. I, uh, I am. So just, um, stick around, yeah?”

At the mention of more chocolate, Eddie feels Venom subside in his anger. If only a little bit. He hums pleasantly on the inside, and it vibrates through Eddie’s chest.

“Hmmm, fine,” he says out loud and wanders off towards the living room to plop down on the couch.

Anne and Dan don’t follow, just wish them both goodnight and head back to their bedroom.

  * ●●●●



They find the apartment empty the next morning but- to Venom’s great disappointment- Sam and Dean’s bags are still their bedroom.

Eddie uses their alone time to polish up his latest article and start drafting his next one, while Venom keeps entertained by browsing YouTube on his phone. There are no distractions, even though the earphones are plugged in Eddie’s ears; he’s still not completely sure how that works, something about Venom hijacking his hearing nerves, but he’s secretly suspecting that Venom doesn’t really get it either.

That being said, he gets jerked out of paradoxically comfortable, eerie silence when Venom suddenly withdraws beneath his skin, tendrils of black reabsorbing into the inside of his wrist from where they hovered above his phone’s touch screen. Over the sound of a podcaster’s voice- Venom was listening to a podcast about aliens, and Area 51 conspiracy theories- he can hear the door opening and turns to see his brothers walking in.

Sam toes off his shoes by the door, dutifully, and Dean makes an aborted step forward before doing the same. They are dressed in suits, wrangling themselves out of them as they come closer.

“Oh, he lives!” Dean jokes, spotting him. “Where’d you disappear off to yesterday?”

“Uh,” Eddie starts, spinning in his chair to face them. Earphones cord coils around his neck and he takes them out before his phone ends up on the floor. “I slept over at a friends’ place.”

“Ooh, _a friend’s_ you say?” Dean leers.

Eddie rolls his eyes and Venom grumbles at the suggestion because he’s a possessive bastard like that.

**Am not.**

_Are too._

“Head out of the gutter, Dean. It wasn’t like that,” he says to his brother.

Dean lifts his hands in surrender, “Hey, I said nothing.”

Eddie harrumphs, turning around to go back to his work. He hears Sam snort at the two of them before plugging the earphones back in. His hands are typing up a list of people he could possibly talk to about his next job, but his mind is wandering.

The suits mean that they are working a case. Which means there is something weird happening in San Fran.

Eddie rakes his brain for possibilities, but the only thing he comes up with is the startling increase of headless corpses, missing criminals, and a slight decrease in seal population. All of which are their fault.

**We should eat them before they cause us trouble** , Venom says.

Eddie doesn’t go into another long-winded rant on why they are most definitely not going to eat his brothers _ever_.

_No_ , he says instead and goes back to his work.

  * ●●●●



A week passes before Sam and Dean encounter their mysterious “black shadow” monster for the first time. Sam found a forum with sightings confessions, dozens upon dozens of them, but they still haven’t prepared them for what they found in the alley behind a communal housing complex.

The thing is huge. Dean watches as it hunches like a predator over a terrified, sobbing guy, easily nine feet tall. It’s mostly humanoid, packed with thick muscles, hands and feet clawed. Its skin is pitch black, shine from a streetlamp reflecting off of it like it’s been slicked with oil. Dean has no fucking idea what it is.

A quick glance at Sam’s equally stumped expression confirms that he doesn’t know either.

“My host doesn’t partake in this part of our nightly outings but I, for one, can’t wait to sink my teeth in you,” the voice sounds overlaid, guttural and deep.

The man sobs, “Oh God, please, don’t-“ and then the creature lunges, razor-sharp teeth glinting. Before they can react, it bites the man’s head clean off, letting the body drop on the ground with fresh blood still gushing out of the wound.

“Oh fuck!” Dean exclaims. Sam tries to snatch his sleeve, but Dean has already taken aim at the monster. He fires, emerging from their hideout.

The bullet hits it in one massive shoulder, causing the skin there to ripple like water after he’d throw in a pebble- and then falls to the ground with a clink.

_Shit._

He fires again, and again, Sam joining him as the creature charges at them, snarling, but still to no avail. The bullets are not even breaking the skin.

“Sam, run!” He yells, turning on his heels. He can hear it getting closer and, fuck, shit, it’s too fast. And besides, he doesn’t even want to imagine what it would do to Impala if they did manage to get in before it cuts them down. It looks strong enough to punch a hole through a fucking solid brick wall.

“Dean!” Sam screams as a strong, black tendril catches his ankle.

He falls down face first, bracing himself on his hands and groaning. The grip on his ankle tightens, almost grinding the bones, and then he’s being lifted up upside-down. Sam shoots at it again, trying to distract it, let it drop him, but Dean just catches a flash of white eyes before he’s sailing through the air.

He braces himself for collision with a wall- instead, he thumps down into a dumpster, landing into a heap of stinking trash bags. The lid slams shut with the force and he spends a second lying in the dark, shocked, before scrambling up.

There is more snarling and shooting and he might have come unscathed by some luck, but Sam is still in danger.

Though, when he opens the lid and meets Sam’s bewildered face across the alley, they are alone. The monster has disappeared.

“Where is it?”

Sam points up, “Climbed to the roof. It’s gone.”

“What the fuck was that?” Dean asks, climbing out.

His brother shakes his head, looking up at the rooftop, “I don’t know.”

  * ●●●●



Eddie gets home a full half-hour before his brothers. Which gives him enough time to have a fight with Venom.

“That was not okay!” He states out loud, slamming the door as he enters the apartment.

**He’s still alive** , Venom responds.

“He could’ve gotten hurt! He could have hit his head, or you could have thrown him too hard-” Eddie swept his arm around to emphasize all the possibilities, then found himself annoyed at the lack of visible audience.

“Come out, V,” he asks.

Obliging, the symbiote seeps out of his skin, contorting into a replica of a human body, mirroring Eddie’s. The faceless head molds itself into a black copy of Eddie’s own face, eyes white as pearls. They stay connected by dozens of dark web-like strings emerging from Eddie’s arms, legs, and torso.

“You said I can’t kill him, so I didn’t kill him,” Venom tells him, taking a step forward even though they’re already standing close.

“But you could have. And you would if I wasn’t there,” Eddie retorts back. It’s true; they are always connected, in flesh and in mind, and Eddie could see his thoughts telegraphed clearly as if they were his own.

He feels an echo of resentment and denial of guilt and knows that if they don’t settle this now, while he can still control the collateral damage, things will get ugly very fast.

“I’m not favoring anyone. They are my brothers, and you and I will be together forever, so you understand something will have to give?”

“They shot at us.”

“They didn’t know it was us, V.”

Honestly, Eddie can’t be sure they wouldn’t shoot if they knew. He made a point of not prodding at their business, at the prompt of their now late father, but he understands enough to know that they wouldn’t just take it in stride.

  * ●●●●



By the time his brothers made it back, the tension dissipated and, while Eddie wouldn’t exactly say they solved their problem, he can at least sleep peacefully knowing that Venom will make a conscious decision not to bodily harm or mentally scar either of them.

Though, as Dean comes in with a smell of trash wafting off of him, Eddie feels and hears Venom chortling like an evil mastermind, smug like a cat that got the cream.

“Don’t even start,” Dean tells him warningly, pointing a finger at his face as he angrily toes off his boots.

Eddie realizes his face is pinched, holding in laughter. _Damn it, V_.

“What happened?” He asks, clearing his throat of joy that’s not even his.

His brothers freeze- just for a split second, but Venom notices- before looking at him.

“Uh, the hunt?” Dean starts, unsure.

It occurs to Eddie that, despite being a journalist and an investigator and fucking curious by nature, this is the first time he asks that.

“Oh.”

Suddenly, his brother’s faces turn contemplative and they exchange one of their silent, eye conversations that Eddie was so jealous of not being a part of as a kid. Dean turns to him, determination in every line of his expression.

“We need you to do some research,” he says and-

“You- _what?_ ” Eddie asks, blinking.

“This thing, we don’t- we never saw anything like it. You live here, you’re probably more familiar with it than we are-“ **Oh, you’ve got no idea** ,”- and you probably know someone who might have seen it, or, you know, something.”

Dean mistakes his silence for reluctance, and adds, “Man, we’d never ask you to get tangled into this, but we need more info on it, Eddie.”

“I don’t-“ Eddie starts, trying to figure out how to get out of this, “I’m sorry, I just remembered there’s something I gotta do.”

“What? Eddie-“

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, I promise I’ll think about this!” He rushes towards the door, snatching his jacket off the hanger.

A hand closes over his shoulder and Venom bristles at the touch. Sam catches not-quite-his expression and gingerly gets his hand off.

“Just wanted to say be careful. That monster might still be out there.”

_You’re not a monster_ , Eddie says furiously to Venom, shrugging on his jacket.

“Yeah, thanks,” he tells Sam and leaves.

  * ●●●●



“We scared him off,” Sam speaks into the silence of Eddie’s frantic departure.

“I don’t get it,” Dean says, “it’s not like we shoved a gun in his hands.”

“Dean, we practically asked him to hunt after telling him for literal years how dangerous that is,” Sam counters.

Eddie is stubborn and far too curious for his own good sometimes, but he’s not hunter material. Dad could see it and that’s why he never let Eddie get involved in their lifestyle.

“We just asked him to research. Hell, isn’t that what he usually does anyway?”

“He doesn’t research monsters, Dean.”

Dean scrubs a hand over his hair, sighs and plops down on the couch.

“Okay. Well, what do _we_ know about this thing?”

Sam takes off his boots and sets them neatly by the door, by Dean’s haphazardly kicked ones, and sinks into the other side. He huffs, “Well, it’s apparently bulletproof.”

Dean grunts, “Corporeal, but not…restricted to one form.”

“Eats people,” Sam adds, remembering the corpse they left in the alley once they started hearing the sirens.

“Doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”

A thought pricks at the back of Sam’s mind, something he heard earlier and he stills a hand coming up to comb through his hair. He lets it fall back into his lap, fingers cramping.

“Dean,” he says, “you remember what it said before it killed that man?”

Dean frowns, leafing through his memories until realization dawns upon him.

“Host,” Sam says, “it said it has a host.”

“Holy fuck, that thing is a demon?”

  * ●●●●



He keeps knocking on the door incessantly until Anne opens it, looking alarmed, and then he sucks in a deep breath before stating, “We’re fucked.”

Anne, for her part, doesn’t even blink as she tugs them inside by the sleeve. They plop down into a chair in the kitchen, and while Anne makes coffee for herself and hot chocolate for them, Eddie is trying to figure out what to do. He doesn’t figure out much before she sets a mug in front of them, though.

“What did you do?”

“Hey! Why do you always assume-“

“Okay. What did _he_ do?”

Eddie makes a noise of indignation that’s all Venom’s doing, then says, “Actually, nothing. Well. Kinda.”

She arches one eyebrow at them, waiting for the explanation.

“Hm, okay, so, uh. My brothers? Yeah. You remember how they have-“

“- _weird work hours?_ ” Anne fills in, complete with air quotes. Yeah, Eddie figured she never bought that.

“Yeah,” he agrees lamely, “well, anyway, they…sort of hunt monsters.”

“Monsters?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t suppose you mean like murderers and rapists?”

“No.”

“Like real monsters?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

Eddie blinks. “ _Hm?_ ”

Anne shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. “You did take the whole body-mate thing strangely well. Now it makes sense,” she cocks her head to the side, “a little bit.”

“I-“ he wants to tell her it’s not like that, not even close, but decides it’s a conversation for some other time and shakes his head.

“Anyway, they want me to do some research for them.”

“Okay…” she starts slowly, sensing a catch, “and that’s bad because?”

“They want me to do research on Venom.”

“Oh,” she says.

She’s silent for a moment, drinking her coffee leisurely while they already gulped down their hot chocolate, then nods, saying, “Yeah, you’re fucked.”

Eddie makes a wounded noise and says, “Thanks for your support.”

  * ●●●●



They don’t go home right away. Certain parts of the city come to life as other parts go to sleep, and they find themselves walking through empty streets and looking out at the bay over the bridge. The first time Dean calls him, Eddie turns off his phone and doesn’t think to check it after that.

“We need to figure something out,” he says out loud, chewing on a Hershey’s chocolate bar, Reese pieces crunching between his teeth.

**I have a suggestion** , Venom says.

“We’re not eating them.”

**I have no suggestions.**

Eddie rolls his eyes. He’s not actually annoyed or angry, just worried because he can’t see how he could play this so that nobody ends up dead or maimed.

He hangs his head, groaning. Of course his brothers decide they need his help when it’s the most inconvenient. And Eddie can lie his ass off to anyone he doesn’t care about, which is unfortunately not the category Sam and Dean fall under. So just creating facts out of thin air is not going to work. Hell, if they outright ask him if he’s not telling them something and he lies, they’re gonna see straight through him.

Venom wraps around his wrists and palms in comfort, sending soothing waves of warmth up his spine. They will come up with something. They have to.

  * ●●●●



It’s past midnight when he decides to go home. It’s cold and he’s tired and Venom is, unsurprisingly, still hungry.

Sam and Dean are livid.

“Where the hell were you?” Dean spins to face him as soon as he opens the door, caught mid-pace. Sam jumps up from his perch on the edge of the couch.

Eddie freezes on the spot, not sure what to do and what this is about.

“Uh.”

“And where the fuck is your phone?”

“Dean,” Sam cuts in.

“Do you know how many times we called you?” Dean continues anyway.

Eddie acutely feels the phone burning a hole in his jacket, and wants to sheepishly scratch the back of his head but Venom stops him.

**Don’t show them you’re guilty. Play dumb!**

“I- uh,” he stutters. He wasn’t lying when he said he can’t lie to them.

Dean’s face darkens even more. He takes a few sharp steps towards them and Eddie feels Venom just shy of breaking through his skin in anticipation of a fight. Not that Eddie thinks there will be a fight; while Dad was still alive, he took Eddie with them outside the city to shoot cans and practice hand-to-hand combat. Eddie was never especially good at either, didn’t have the drive to throw punches at his brothers when there was no reason for him to hit them, so those fighting lessons never lasted long. Sam would go easy on him and Dean would toss in a few useful advices between playful punches at his palms, and that would be it. They know Eddie can’t and won’t fight.

Though it’s not just Eddie now and he has to soothe and convince Venom to stand down as his oldest brother keeps advancing.

“Do you understand that there is a literal people-eating demon out there, huh?” Dean asks, pointing out the window at the city in general.

“A what-“

“And it already got a whiff of me and Sam. We know how to take care of ourselves. You have no idea-“

**Ohhhh, deck him, Eddie! Deck him!**

Eddie frowns, indignation and anger flaring up inside him, “What’s that suppose-“

“If that fucking thing decides to have a taste of Eddie Brock, you’re done. So, how about you answer your fucking phone when I call you, yeah? So I know you’re goddamn alive!”

**Let’s fight him!**

“I don’t need you to babysit me, Dean! I’m a grown man.”

“Oh really? Well, you’re acting really fucking mature!”

**Eddie! He can’t talk to us like this!**

“Guys.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m glad you noticed.” Eddie grits out. He feels his pulse thudding in his temples, heat in his face. Venom is trashing like a viper in his chest.

“Jesus Christ, can you take your life seriously at least once-“

“Guys!” Sam hollers.

Dean clamps his mouth shut, and they both turn to face Sam’s thoroughly irritated expression.

“Enough. You’re both acting like kids,” he tells them.

Venom is more insulted by this than Eddie is, but they both keep silent.

Dean is still fuming, and Sam draws a deep breath, taking over control.

“What we mean,” he starts, throwing a pointed look at Dean, “is that we were worried when we couldn’t reach you.”

“I was fine,” Eddie says icily, Venom’s and his own feelings still running through him in a loop.

Sam nods, “Right.” He sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and concludes, “It’s late. Let’s just go to sleep,” before going to do just that.

At that, Eddie remembers that, yeah, he is tired, despite Venom being wide awake and not needing sleep anyway.

He makes his way towards the couch, bypassing Dean. They don’t talk or apologize, and the elephant in the room is painfully obvious. Eddie expects to be ignored, but Dean, stony-faced as he is, still nods at him on his way out of the room.

Eddie sighs, feeling wounded, and sinks into the cushions. When his brothers retreat to the bedroom, Venom reaches out to turn off the light and then settles over Eddie’s body like a blanket.

  * ●●●●



Dean made himself get out of the bed earlier than usual, hoping to get his morning dose of caffeine and go out to sniff around for more information about their weird-ass demon before any of his brothers wake up, but when he steps into the kitchen, Eddie is already up.

He’s standing in front of the cupboard stacked with chocolate, arm outstretched up towards the highest shelf. When he sees Dean, he squares his shoulders like he’s gearing up for a fight.

So he’s still pissed. Awesome.

“Hey,” Dean says, figuring _what the hell_ since there’s no point in ignoring each other now.

Eddie blinks, his eyes dull and his fingers shifting on a package of dark chocolate in his hand. His expression is carefully neutral like he doesn’t really know what to do with his face muscles and Dean finds out, annoyed, that he can’t read him at all.

“Hey,” he parrots back, soldiering past Dean to plop down on the couch.

Dean stares at the back of his head for a moment, then drags a hand over his face, sighing quietly.

He drinks his coffee in silence, watching as Eddie makes his way through the chocolate bar, not showing any indication that he’s aware of Dean’s presence. When he’s done, he crumples the wrapper into a ball and carries t to the trash can, all the while giving Dean a wide berth.

He settles back on the couch, disappearing behind the backrest, and Dean just sees his feet when he hitches them over one armrest, apparently going back to sleep.

Dean finishes his coffee and gets out.

  * ●●●●



Sam wakes up half worried he’ll find Dean and Eddie at each other’s throats in the kitchen, and half convinced that the apartment will be empty when he gets up, but when he enters the living area, Eddie is still passed out on the couch.

He twitches in his sleep as Sam leans over the backrest to check up on him, and then he slowly blinks into consciousness, like he’s coming in from an out-of-body experience. Eddie has never been ‘feeling-someone’s-watching-you’ kind of alert, and Sam didn’t research in-depth the whole Life Foundation ordeal that kicked up the dust in media a while back, but it clearly made him more alert.

“Hey, did you see Dean leave?” Sam asks him even though it’s not likely. Even with Eddie’s newfound self-preservation instincts, Dean could’ve snuck out without making a sound.

Eddie shakes his head, saying, “No-“ and then his eyebrows furrow and he surprises Sam by saying, “Oh, wait. I- actually, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie nods, “It was just after dawn.”

Sam ignores the fact that both of them- late-risers by the law of the universe or something- were up so early, and just says, “Oh. Thanks.”

He knows what Dean’s doing, and that he needs some breathing space, so he just fixes breakfast for himself and Eddie.

“You’re out of eggs,” he says, cracking the last one into the bowl.

Eddie sighs, more troubled by the prospect of leaving his apartment than anything else.

“And out of butter, milk, and, you know, _everything_ ,” he adds mournfully, hunched over and around his cup of chocolate-coffee. He grumbles something into the rim of the cup that Sam doesn’t catch but figures it’s just morning nonsense mumbling.

They eat in silence, Eddie’s scrambled eggs drowning in chocolate syrup. Sam chews his egg whites, watching his younger brother making faces and rolling his eyes at his plate like he’s playing out a conversation in his head.

“I gotta go to the store,” Eddie says after a while, scrubbing heels of his palms over his eyes, and then scratching at his cheek thoughtfully.

“I’ll go with you,” Sam tells him. There’s no plan for today, so he might as well.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him, “Are you trying to babysit me?”

Sam rolls his eyes, struck with how similar Eddie and Dean can be sometimes, and responds, “Maybe I just want to hang out with my brother, hm?”

And, yeah, that does the trick.

Eddie pouts because he’s definitely not going to outright say no to that, and then relaxes and says, “Okay.”

And, well, keeping an eye on him is just a bonus.

  * ●●●●



Sam figures that San Francisco gets pretty weird from time to time because when Eddie dumps enough food to provide a small army for a month (or Dean and Eddie, with his newfound appetite) on the counter, the lady behind the register doesn’t even blink.

Honestly, Sam didn’t even see him get half of the stuff that found its way into the grocery bags.

Furthermore, she adds two bars of chocolate on the pile with, “They are on discount the whole week, but you know how things go with discounts, so I saved you two.”

Eddie’s eyes go round, and he gratefully says, “You are a saint, Mrs. Chen,” as he hands her the money.

Okay. Maybe it’s not San Francisco that’s weird, and she’s just well-accustomed to _Eddie_.

Between the two of them, they trot back to the apartment with armfuls of groceries and make a quick job of putting them all away.

“I’m going out for lunch,” Eddie tells him around a mouthful of Reese’s cup.

“Oh,” Sam says, deciding to tread carefully on what the sentence suggests. “That’s, uh, nice.”

Eddie didn’t utter a word about Anne since they arrived- and, yeah, this might sound bad- but Sam knows he’s not exactly ‘living-alone’ kind of person. For Christ’s sake, he gets so involved in a story he’s writing that he forgets to eat if there’s no one to practically bully him into getting a break. Though, lately, it seems like not eating is not his problem anymore; now, it’s like eating is almost an absentminded habit.

“Yup,” Eddie agrees easily, chewing. He doesn’t offer who he’s meeting or where, but Sam supposes he shouldn’t prod. It’s not like it’s any of his business, and if Dean wants to know, then he’ll have to go prod on his own.

  * ●●●●



He meets Dean on the parking lot, looking glum.

“Nothing?” He guesses as they start walking.

“Went back to the crime scene, waved around the EMF detector, but nothing,” Dean says with a shrug, “no sulfur either, but hell, it doesn’t look like a normal demon anyway.”

“What if it’s not a demon?”

Dean's eyebrows hitch up.

“I mean,” Sam continues, “what if it’s something else?”

“Something else what?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know,” Sam admits,” but it doesn’t look like a demon, and there’s no sulfur. And besides, demons are not really only things that need hosts.”

“Yeah, other things being ghosts and angels,” Dean says, his voice making it clear how possible either of those is as their monster.

After a brief silence, Dean sighs, “We need to find out more, man.”

“Through Eddie? Dean, I don’t think that’s really a good idea.”

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but before he gets a chance to protest, Sam says, “Speaking of Eddie, he’s got a lunch date.”

Dean’s face turns sly, “Well, good for him.” His eyes brighten, “Blonde or brunette, what do you think?”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Dean.”

“What? I’m allowed to guess. Also, he’s obviously not introducing us- rude, by the way- but is he aware that two toothbrushes in the bathroom are not the way to go if his plan is to keep his new girlfriend a secret?”

“Dean.”

“Like, what are we gonna do? Embarrass him? C’mon, we’re cool.”

Sam sighs heavily. Dean’s one-track mind is going to be the end of him.

“Dean. The monster.”

Dean blinks, “Oh, right. Well, anyway, what do you suggest we do?”

Sam shrugs, “I mean, we could ask around. Get more data, figure out if it’s using certain… _hunting_ spots?”

Dean grunts, “Well, that’s a start.”

  * ●●●●



They take a tram to the some of the neighborhoods where people reported seeing “the demon of San Francisco” ( _“Dude, I hate how that’s actually an awesome name, what the hell.”_ ). At the mention of the monster, people either turn white as sheets and slam the door in their faces, or they turn white as sheets and squeeze out a few words _before_ slamming the door in their faces. They all agree on the description, so it’s good to know that the thing at least has a semi-permanent form. And another thing-

“You seeing the same connection as me?” Dean asks him as they start nearing a diner near the city center.

“It feeds on criminals. Mostly,” Sam responds, frowning.

“So what? It’s got a, uh, a killing code?”

“I suppose? I mean, there are some people who don’t fit the type. Maybe they found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Yeah, but then it means that our scary, big friend eats just whoever is close.”

Sam stops them both mid-step with a hand on Dean’s arm, realizing something.

“Not whoever,” he says.

“Huh?”

“Us,” he responds, pointing between the two of them, “bullets couldn’t hurt it, Dean, it could’ve killed us that night. And it didn’t.”

After it threw Dean in that dumpster, Sam opened fire again, but the thing barely spared him a glance before vaulting the wall and escaping to the rooftop.

Dean looks deep in thought for a moment, then he shrugs, shaking his head, “Maybe it just had its fill? Or you forgot about the poor bastard it had for dinner?”

Sam grimaces because, yeah, he remembers just fine, and follows after his brother.

He doesn’t follow for long, though, because just a few steps later, Dean comes to a sudden halt and Sam almost runs into him.

“What-“

“Is that Eddie or do I need glasses?”

Sam focuses on the terrace of a restaurant where Dean tipped his chin at, and, huh, it _is_ Eddie.

“Yeah.”

They watch in silence as Eddie talks animatedly, the guy seated across from him listening intently and eating a sandwich like a starved man.

“Well, they are a pair,” Dean says, at last, observing.

Sam just nods.

Suddenly, Eddie’s head whips in their direction and they scramble to disappear behind a corner before they get caught creeping in true ‘older brothers’ fashion. Dean yanks him forward, and they hurry their step.

  * ●●●●



“That’s the dumbest thing I have heard in my life,” Eddie proclaims out loud, walking down the hallway towards his apartment.

**And you’re the dumbest thing I have heard in my life** , Venom retorts.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the comeback, “Lame.”

**Not as lame as bagels** , Venom snips back, making a full circle on their conversation topics from the restaurant to here.

“Why do you have a grudge against bagels, V?”

**They are a round pastry with a hole in the middle. Which is dumb because there could be more pastry instead.**

Eddie tips his head to the side, says slowly, “You do realize that’s also donuts?”

**Donuts are delicious. Bagels are a useless abomination**.

Eddie snorts, unlocks his door and is immediately so grateful that he’s wearing a Bluetooth because his brothers are trying to peer into the hallway to see who he’s talking to.

“Uh, hi.”

Sam notices the device on his ear first and settles back into his seat. Dean follows, slumping disappointedly. Eddie didn’t miss them on the street earlier- thanks to Venom- and he wonders if they thought he was going to bring his lunch date here. Where they are.

Dan might be his ex-fiancée’s boyfriend, but Eddie likes him and he’d never willingly expose him to Sam and Dean’s shovel talk. Because monster hunters or not, his brothers can be so dense when it comes to mundane stuff- and to Dean, a lunch date would be a _lunch date_. No matter what.

“Hi. So, uh, who were you talking to?” Dean asks, trying for casual and failing.

“A friend,” Eddie says shiftily.

“The, uh, friend you were having lunch with?”

Eddie, because he’s an actual idiot, says, “Yeah,” and immediately wants to kick his head in.

Venom cackles, finding this utterly hilarious.

“Huh,” Dean says.

“What?”

“ _Nothing._ ”

Sam clears his throat, “Are you- are you gonna finish your conversation?”

Eddie’s mind blanks out for a second and then he realizes he didn’t press disconnect- even though the device isn’t actually even charged.

“Oh! Yeah, right, uh, I’ll just, um, uh, I’ll call you later, V.” And damn, if someone told him how awkward saying that would be- seeing how Venom is literally always inside his head- he’d tell them to fuck off.

**That’s what you always say** , Venom retorts, fake-petulant and enjoying Eddie’s fumbling embarrassment way too much.

_Asshole._

  * ●●●●



Dean had a brilliant idea to cruise the monster’s neighborhoods at night that didn’t prove to be that brilliant for three days before their luck finally struck.

At two thugs leaping onto the road with petrified faces just to be yanked back into the alley by two black tendrils right in front of the Impala, Dean hits the brakes. They rush out, guns and knives at the ready, and follow.

The gunfire pierces their ears, yelling and snarling as they enter the dim space lit by a single streetlamp. The others, Sam assumes, were taken out by stray bullets.

Something crashes loudly behind the corner, thunderous sound of metal bending, and then only gunfire until it too stops after a moment.

Sam and Dean advance, about to round a corner- and then the air leaves them. Sam feels faint, as they stare at the figure ahead of them.

Eddie has emerged from one of the side alleys and is staring at them like a deer caught in headlights, flush high on his cheeks.

“What,” Dean starts dangerously, first to recover, “the everloving _fuck_ are you doing here?”

Eddie’s eyes bounce around and then he says, “I’m, uh, working. For an article. What are you two doing?”

“We’re working a case! What the hell do you think!” Dean hisses, snagging the front of his hoodie and pulling him away from the chaos they can’t hear anymore save for a few gunshots, but don’t doubt still isn’t done.

The three of them huddle close at the mouth of the alley Eddie just came out of, Dean patting him down roughly but not with malicious intention to detect any wounds. To Sam, he seems unharmed. In top condition, actually. His eyes are bright and alert, and he seems to be buzzing with adrenaline.

Dean comes to the same conclusion and gives him some breathing space.

“You need to go home, Eddie,” he tells him.

“I’m-“

“I’m serious, Eddie. There is a monster behind that corner, and we are just shy of being smack in the middle of its playground.”

Eddie opens his mouth, and he’s got that look that says he’s about to go into a rant, but then he takes in a deep breath and twists his arms by his sides in a seemingly relaxing gesture.

“I’m not done yet. And I’m not in danger, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, I swear.”

Dean sighs heavily, both of them bull-headed at the worst of times, and says, “Eddie-“

And then cuts off because a bullet whizzes past their heads and they all duck, hunching down and running for shelter behind the wall.

Eddie topples back as if yanked by an invisible force, and lands on his ass with loud, “Motherfuck!”

For a second, he looks so terrifyingly furious that Sam almost doesn’t recognize him, but in a short millisecond it takes Sam to blink, the look is gone and he climbs back to his feet.

“I’ll see you guys back home,” he says with determination and that’s all warning he gives them before disappearing the same way he came from.

Dean reaches for him but is too slow and Eddie gets lost in the shadows. Dean’s fingers catch empty air, and he smacks his fist against the wall angrily.

“Fuck! That kid’s gonna get himself killed!”

Sam doesn’t know what to do because he knows nothing will help.

“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you get to lecture him,” he ends up saying.

That, at least, seems to brighten Dean up a bit.

They proceed with their nonexistent plan, creeping behind the corner, guns at ready. They’re not quite prepared for the scene that awaits them.

It looks like a gang war- except there’s a huge fucking monster in the middle of it, and the people have decided to put their differences aside in purpose of defeating it. They are… they are not doing so well.

Sam and Dean join in- which proves to be a mistake because despite shooting at the monster (again, uselessly, because not even silver is working) they are unfamiliar faces and thus draw the fire to themselves.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouts, ducking behind a dumpster.

Sam drops down, doesn’t have a chance to get cover as Dean did, and every bullet that comes even close is another heart palpitation in Dean’s chest.

The monster snarls, making a wide, sweeping motion with its arm that sends a few men flying. It’s tearing people apart, tendrils coming out of its body to pull off limbs and break necks. Though, Dean’s not focusing on that.

Sam is crawling his way towards him, inching closer painfully slow and fuck, is Dean supposed to shoot at those people? These terrified people who are shooting at his brother while their friends are getting killed right before them?

He doesn’t get to think about it too hard because there’s a guy advancing towards them, half-scared and half-angry, and shit, shit, Dean is taking aim before it’s even a conscious decision-

And then the guy is being picked off his feet by the scruff of his neck. The monster flings him over its shoulder like a dirty rag and then gets its hands on Sam.

Dean stares, frozen, as it pulls him up on his feet. The movements are rough, and it pauses before softening its grip, allowing Sam to find balance on his own.

Sam shoots a bewildered look at him before looking at the monster in apprehension.

Dean marches his way towards them because even if the monster is not munching on his brother ( _yet_ ), it’s still way too close to him for Dean’s liking.

He shoves a shoulder in front of Sam and the creature regards his attempt at protection with a vague air of amusement. Dean tips his head up to look at its face, trying not to show how aware he is that it could take his head off before he even blinked. 

He notes that there’s no smell coming off of it. Dean expected copper, considering how many people it just killed and probably ate- but the only things he can sense is maybe a bit of ozone, like the air after the storm, and electricity.

“You’re not trying to eat us,” Sam says from behind him.

“No,” it says back, its voice still deep and guttural, overlaid like two sound recordings played a second after one another.

Honestly, and not to sound judgmental, Dean wasn’t sure the thing could understand them, even though they heard it speak. It just seemed like it was talking over that guy without listening or registering what he was saying.

“Why not?”

It sneers a bit, looking down on them, and Dean swears it sounds petulant when it says, “I made a promise.”

“To whom?” Dean pipes up.

It just grins at him, all rows of long, terrifying teeth, as if saying, “I’m not going to fall for that,” which is a shame because, well, Dean kinda hoped it would.

“You should stop hunting us,” it says, “we are not your enemy.”

_We?_

“And what are you, then? A good Samaritan, huh?” Dean asks, pointedly looking at the bodies around them.

“We only kill bad people,” it responds.

“Like criminals?” Sam asks.

“Bad people. Not all criminals are bad. Not all bad people are criminals,” it says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“And how can we be sure you won’t get bored with ‘bad people’?”

It hums. “Because I promised- only bad people. Not even pets, even though they eat your shoes and shit on your carpet.”

“Dude,” Dean says because, seriously, this was not the conversation he thought he’d be having tonight.

It stops speaking then, and Dean swears it rolls its eyes, even though he can’t see it as they’re completely white.

“You mentioned a host last time,” Sam says suddenly.

That catches its attention real quick.

“Can we talk to them?” Sam continues.

“No.”

“No?” Dean repeats suspiciously. “Why not?”

“He doesn’t want to be seen.”

“See, buddy, that sounds like he’s got something to say that you don’t want us to hear.”

It makes a low rumbling noise, displeased.

“I’m not keeping him against his will,” it says, sounding insulted, “he gave me home. He’s not my prisoner, we co-exist. We are equals.”

Well, that’s the one Dean hasn’t heard before. But, honestly, he’s not sure what to say to that.

The monster beats him to it anyway.

“Now that we cleared everything up,” it starts dismissively, and Dean would _oh, so gladly_ pick a fight just for that tone, if it didn’t add, softer, “please, stop hunting us.”

And, _fuck_.

  * ●●●●



Despite the fact that they combed through the alleys two times before leaving- it really was a bad neighborhood if they didn’t even bother calling the cops- Dean was still somewhat surprised to find Eddie already sleeping on the couch when they came back.

He was sprawled on his stomach, one foot over the armrest and the other on the floor along with his arm, face shoved into his forearm. The sight of him, seemingly boneless and without a care in the world, loosens a knot in his chest. They met Eddie just a bit before Sam left for college, but he wormed his way in like he was there from the beginning. Family is family.

Dean taps his cheek to rouse him, a bit surprised when it actually works. He was planning a lecture, but by the bleary look in Eddie’s eyes, he knows none of it would stick right now.

“Hey, we just came back,” he says instead, “we’ll, uh, try to be quiet, but if you hear something, it’s not burglars, alright?”

Eddie looks at him for a long second and raises his hand to cover Dean’s face with his palm- and then shoves him away with a grumble.

Dean stares at him in betrayal, stunned and sitting on his ass, while Sam wheezes out a snicker behind him.

Dean glares at him. Ungrateful punks, both of them.

  * ●●●●



“So, uh, we’re leaving,” Dean says during breakfast.

Eddie pauses, a piece of his chocolate ice-cream smothered waffles poised midway to his mouth, as Venom does a happy wiggle in his abdominal cavity. He shoves it in and licks his fingers before asking, “When?”

**We’re getting our bedroom back! Finally!**

“Tomorrow morning, before dawn,” Dean says through his own mouthful of eggs and bacon.

Sam is looking at both of them in disappointment, poking at his plain egg whites.

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says, squashing down sadness in his chest and finding that his chest feels tight because Venom is, in fact, hugging him really hard.

_I appreciate the comfort, V, but I need to breathe._

**I wasn’t comforting you** , Venom says, **I was testing the sturdiness of your ribs. It’s really disappointing.**

_Sure, V._

He clears his throat, asks, “So, does that mean you’re done with your hunt?”

Dean looks at Sam and after a beat sighs, saying, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Eddie combats a grin threatening to take over his face by stuffing more waffles in his mouth.

  * ●●●●



If it weren’t for Venom, Eddie would sleep right through Sam and Dean’s departure, but as it is, he fakes sleep until their front door clicks shut, and then shuffles to the window to watch them throwing their bags in the trunk and getting in their respective seats.

Light from streetlamps bounces off the shiny paint job, and once the car disappears from his sight, Eddie pads to the kitchen and snatches the sticky note Sam left on the fridge in his hand.

_“We’ll come back soon, take care, Eddie. – S. and D.”_

**Eddie? I have a proposition.**

“What?”

**Let’s get a new apartment and not send them the address.**

He snorts, “Sorry, V, no can do.”

Venom grumbles but Eddie rubs a hand over his collarbone and feeds him some donuts and all is well. They’ll have to come up with something for the next time his brothers visit, though. And get a pull-out couch.

At the thought of maneuvering the damn thing through the door, Eddie feels life drain from him. Maybe moving doesn’t sound so bad.


End file.
